


be your shadow

by magicsoul (cherishiskisa)



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Podfic Available, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, but..., commissioned!, exactly what it says on the tin except even sadder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul
Summary: Should he be more upset about this? Should it be upsetting, to be so profoundly in love with someone who has made it so profoundly clear that they are not only uninterested, but actually explicitly opposed to you? Well, maybe, but Changkyun’s not upset.Besides, Minhyuk has a plan.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 52
Kudos: 148





	be your shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharksoul24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharksoul24/gifts).



> hewwo everyone!!!! this is a commission for @MonIllybebe on twitter and it was supposed to be 5k but then i got carried away hehehe. the comm was: college au, slow burn, angst, "cheating but not really," and minhyuk, and here's what i came up with!!! thank you so much for commissioning me, i hope you like how it turned out!!! i've never done commissions before but took on 3 slots to break myself out of writers block and so far im having a TON of fun >:3
> 
> brief warning going in -- i'm not kidding when i say it's angsty. for anyone who's read my band au, it's like that, but even worse. if that seems like it'd be too much for you, maybe skip this one, i have more fun stuff coming soon!! but otherwise, please enjoy!! title from be your shadow by the wombats, obviously

“At least sit further away,” Kihyun mutters. “I can hear your music, it’s distracting.”

Changkyun glances up from his textbook and takes out one headphone. “What? Sorry, I— podcast.”

Kihyun is looking at him with eyes narrowed, his hands paused over his keyboard. “I said,” he says, “sit further away, if you’re determined to stalk me. It’s the least you could do.”

“I’m not stalking you.”

Kihyun exhales tightly through his nose and looks displeased, but he’s frowning at his computer screen instead now and it’s easier to bear. “Sure.”

“I’m not,” Changkyun says, but it doesn’t sound very convincing even to himself. “This is a public library.”

“Right,” Kihyun says. Now he’s just resigned. He closes his laptop with a snappy noise and hauls his crossbody up from the floor to start packing his things away. “It’s a public library. And it was a public coffee shop, and a public meeting of the photography club, and a public dorm lounge, and all of this is nothing more than a coincidence.”

“Exactly,” Changkyun says weakly. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

Kihyun doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Changkyun doesn’t blame him. His things shoved carefully into his bag, Kihyun stands, turns off the lamp he’d turned on to illuminate his library chair, and leaves. Sure, Changkyun wants to follow, but he still has the barest modicum of self-respect left, so he doesn’t. This _thing_ he does only works until Kihyun tells him to stop in his own polite euphemistic ways — it only exists when unobserved, and he’s done enough damage for the day. He wishes he could say it would be the last time, but — he can’t lie. He knows it’s not. May as well save himself the mental gymnastics. He checks his phone calendar to confirm what he already knows: Kihyun’s photography club is meeting again this Thursday at 6:30, so that’s what Changkyun has to look forward to. All he has to do is make it until then.

He sees Kihyun before Thursday, though. In a group setting, of course, and Kihyun doesn’t say a word to him, of course, but when Wonho is pouring everyone’s tea, Changkyun notices that he and Kihyun take their tea the exact same way and can’t help but feel a certain cosmic significance. One and a half sugars, half a splash of milk. Hot enough to burn your tongue, so you feel it for the rest of the day and remember where you were when you drank it. Changkyun drinks, burns his tongue, and looks at Kihyun, who is looking away.

The photography club of which Kihyun is self-elected president, Shutter, meets in the basement of the visual arts building, all the way on the other side of campus from Changkyun’s 5 o’clock class that ends at 6:20. He has to book it over there every time and is always some degree of unattractively pink and/or sweaty once he gets there, and it’s almost worth it for the way Kihyun fixes him with a mildly disapproving look that lasts about two seconds, then ignores him for the rest of the hour. The ten-minute speed-walk always gives Changkyun just enough time to consider whether or not he should stop, whether or not he’s doing something wrong, but _not_ enough time to actually make a decision on either of those issues, so here he is, taking the stairs down to the basement, pushing open the door of the classroom that Shutter uses, and slipping in to take a seat in the back.

(First time he’d come, he very nearly had talked himself out of it at the door, and that would have been the end of it. _It’s too much,_ he’d thought. _I’m pushing a boundary that shouldn’t be pushed. This is getting crazy._ While he’d been standing by the door to the room, wavering, palms sweating, some well-intentioned junior had held the door open on her way in, saying, _Here for Shutter? We’re about to start!_ And so Changkyun had had no choice but to go in. Kihyun was setting up the PowerPoint presentation to introduce the club to any new members. He’d looked at Changkyun, his eyes had hardened, and he’d said, _Seriously? Here, too?_ Then he hadn’t acknowledged him again, but Changkyun put his name and email on the Shutter mailing list anyway, just in case. Any time his inbox pings with an automated email blast from the Shutter listhost, his heart beats just a little faster, because he knows Kihyun knows Changkyun is getting those emails, too. He’s writing them knowing Changkyun will read them, and Changkyun’s not quite at the point where he's obsessively combing over every word looking for a sign that Kihyun is writing to _him,_ but he’s getting there.)

Kihyun seems stressed today — he doesn’t even glance at Changkyun in acknowledgement when he comes in. Once Changkyun has taken his usual back corner seat, he sees the reason: Kihyun’s daily PowerPoint is titled _Shutter Magazine, winter quarter,_ and he’s holding a stack of print-outs. Changkyun stifles a sigh. He’s here to — well, it’s hard to put into words exactly why he’s here, but he’s more here for Kihyun’s presence than he is for any kind of photographic activities. He doesn’t particularly care about the photography club, Kihyun could have been into anything and Changkyun would have tagged along, but as long as he’s here, he’s going to have to participate, and hopefully he’ll be able to impress Kihyun along the way. Kihyun, speaking at a fast, stressed clip, explains the concept of the magazine for anyone as-of-yet-unfamiliar (not looking at Changkyun), projects some images from past issues (not looking at Changkyun), hands a clipboard with a sign-up sheet to the person nearest him (not looking at Changkyun). Changkyun gauges it as safe to play on his phone rather than pay attention, since participation in this magazine thing is probably semi-optional and he’ll just snap some artsy shots of the sky the night before the deadline, but just as he’s burrowed himself into his hoodie and gotten comfortable with the New Yorker app, there’s Kihyun’s voice, clear as a seventy-five-degree day: “Changkyun?”

Changkyun jerks upright. “Yes?” he says, unabashedly eager.

Unbelievably and against all odds, Kihyun is looking directly at him. Frowning, but still. He’s looking. And maybe Changkyun will get a smile one of these days. “Between three and five images,” he says. “If you don’t want to submit original work, you can be on the editing team or the design/printing team. What’s it going to be?”

Changkyun is still a little stunned by the fact that Kihyun just said this many things to him in a row, in public. “Um…”

“Well?” Kihyun sighs impatiently.

“Which team are _you_ on?” Changkyun asks.

Kihyun’s frown deepens, but, inexplicably, he humors him. “I’m the _Editor-in-Chief,_ Changkyun. I’m not on a team.”

“Then I’ll be your assistant,” Changkyun says. “Your errandboy. Whatever you need.”

Kihyun’s face is so impassive. He looks like a photograph, himself. “Mark him down for printing,” he says to his second-in-command, a mousy lesbian from New Mexico. “Great, that’s everyone. If you find yourself completely unable to participate for an extenuating reason, _please_ contact me as _soon_ as humanly possible, and if you _know_ you won’t be able to participate, please just leave right now, save all of us the time, and we’ll see you again once the issue is published.” He falls silent and waits, expectantly, for any weak links to depart, but Changkyun is in private paroxysms of delight because Kihyun is taking him for granted, Kihyun isn’t fighting anymore, Kihyun knows Changkyun is a given, a sure thing. The way a thorn remains lodged in a cut, the way a barnacle will cling to the side of a ship even when deprived of water and dying and drowning in the air, he knows Changkyun is sticking around. It’s a win — possibly a Pyrrhic victory, but a win nevertheless. Changkyun doesn’t get very many of those. So he’s sitting there, pleased with himself, for the whole rest of the club meeting, watching silently as Kihyun passes papers out and explains the very strict publication timeline and fields questions. Changkyun understands perfectly why, every solar eclipse, hundreds of people stare until their eyes sustain permanent damage. If Kihyun would let him stare forever, he’d do it, no matter how much it hurt.

He’s still in seventh heaven by the time the meeting is wrapping up. Kihyun is shutting off the projector and putting his things into his bag and Changkyun waits by the door, although it’s not like Kihyun is going to talk to him as he leaves. It’s 7:30 on the dot — Kihyun is always so precise. Changkyun is getting hungry and checks his texts to check if the rest of their friends are already in the dining hall for dinner, and when he looks up, he sees that he missed his chance, Kihyun has breezed past him without a glance or a word and left the room — he even turned the lights off on his way out, leaving Changkyun in the dim of nothing but the emergency exit sign. Changkyun is the last person there. He sighs, zips up his jacket, pulls his backpack onto one shoulder, and trudges out, and it’s cold in the visual arts building’s basement, but his thoughts of how Kihyun _knows_ he can rely on Changkyun to always be there keep him warm.

Once he’s out on the street, he puts his headphones in and shuffles his On Repeat playlist. His favorite Beck song starts up and Changkyun, figuring he’s mostly alone on the intra-campus walkway, hums along, very quietly. If Kihyun is the EIC of the magazine and Changkyun is a member of the printing staff, does that mean Changkyun gets to work with him directly? Has Kihyun deliberately placed him close? Or does it mean Changkyun will be relegated to the visual art building's print room to battle it out with the complicated photo printers? Probably that, but still, it can’t hurt to dream. He’s smiling to himself and clicks the volume up button, but just as he does so, he hears a raised voice calling his name and glances up reflexively from his phone to trace the origin, and nearly trips over his own feet and face-plants into the pavement when he sees and hears that it’s Kihyun.

“—want to be rude, but _are_ you kidding me,” Kihyun is saying, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” Changkyun says, confounded, taking both headphones out this time. “What’s up?”

“Are you lost? Like, can I help you? Or are you seriously following me,” Kihyun says, arms crossed tighter than ever before, hugging around himself as if protectively.

For once, actually, Changkyun was not. “Um, no? I—”

Kihyun interrupts him with a dismissive exhaled laugh. “Really,” he says, in that resigned tone of his. Like Changkyun is a tiresome child that’s let him down. “Really. Where are you going, then, if you’re not following me?”

“The… dining hall?” Changkyun says. “It’s dinner time, I’m—”

“Yes,” Kihyun says, now condescendingly patient, too polite to be sincere, “that’s where _I’m_ going. So what was that about not following me, again?”

Changkyun doesn’t know what to say. It’s just a coincidence this time, really, honestly, but how can he get Kihyun to believe that? He’s cried wolf far too often. “Want to walk over together?” he offers, and Kihyun looks like he could scream.

“No,” Kihyun says, more firmly even than usual. Wow, Changkyun has really tried his patience. “I do not, thank you. What I want is to have _one_ meal with my friends in peace. That’s it.”

Changkyun has always thought of them as _their_ friends, but he knows Kihyun doesn’t see it that way. Which is fine. As for _in peace_ , that means without Changkyun staring in mute adoration at him the whole time — Changkyun can speak his language, he knows what he means. Sure, Kihyun’s too “nice” to outright tell Changkyun to fuck off and die, but it’s probably implied. “Right, yeah, of course,” he says. “No, I’ll just— I’ll go eat at home, or something. Sorry.”

“Okay, good night,” Kihyun says with a not insignificant note of relief in his pretty voice, turns on his heel, and strides boldly onward. Changkyun lets him go, watches him go. Should he be more upset about this? Should it be upsetting, to be so profoundly in love with someone who has made it so profoundly clear that they are not only uninterested, but actually explicitly opposed to you? Well, maybe, but Changkyun’s not upset. Normally Kihyun’s not this overt about it; he must be having a bad day. Changkyun wonders what happened, and turns and walks the opposite way, back to the shuttle stop so he can get to his dorm quicker. As he waits for the shuttle, his inbox lights up red. New email from [Mailing List: Shutter]. Changkyun presses his free hand over his heart, reads the words Kihyun is expecting him to read, and feels his pulse beat under his fingers.

He wishes he could say it wasn’t always this bad, but that would be a lie. It’s gotten worse, yes, but it’s never been exactly “good.” First day on campus as a second-year transfer student, and he’d seen Kihyun across the dorm lounge, and that had pretty much been it. Nail in the coffin in the ground, six feet under, rest in pieces. He’d gone over and introduced himself and Kihyun had been neutral, verging on personable, but then when Changkyun began endearing himself to Kihyun’s friends, that neutral friendliness soured into bare tolerance, then rotted into outright dislike. Obviously, Changkyun’s quiet, unimposing love for him only makes it worse. And what makes it worse for Changkyun is that he can’t even pinpoint _why_ he loves him so much — what it is about him that even caught Changkyun’s eye on the first place — he just does, he just is, it’s just him. Like he was waiting for him, or someone like him, all his life, and now he won’t go anywhere without him. This is how it happens in the movies, Changkyun figures, right? The guy has to be patient and not a creep, and eventually, the acerbic, independent love interest will see he’s been there all along, supportive and waiting and sweet. Changkyun doesn’t feel entitled to him. He’s not even sure Kihyun will ever love him back. But if he didn’t have Kihyun to focus on, he’d definitely be in an even worse place than this, and at least now he has something to keep him going every day. Unhealthy? Definitely. But at least he’s having fun.

The problem with his very noble plan to leave Kihyun alone to have a nice meal “in peace” is that Changkyun doesn’t actually have a lot to eat at his dorm. He trudges down the hallway in his slippers to fill up his electric kettle in the communal kitchen’s sink, then returns to his room and makes himself some Maruchan. While it stews, he rereads the email Kihyun had sent to the Shutter mailing list in lieu of actually doing his homework, but he compromises by playing a video about Beowulf while he eats — that way, it’s like he’s studying without putting in any actual effort. But once he’s finished his ramen and is about to start actually working, there’s a knock on his door, loud and repetitive and very insistent, and Changkyun, always grateful for a distraction, gets up to go open it, about half-hoping it’s Kihyun.

It’s not Kihyun; it’s Minhyuk, actually. “Ciao, bella,” he says with a big toothy grin, shaking a paper bag in his hand at Changkyun. “They had your favorite donuts in the dining hall, so I got you some since you weren’t at dinner. Feeling okay? You look like you’re getting sick, you want any Advil? I have some in my backpack, somewhere, I can get it for you if you want.”

“Oh,” Changkyun says. “Um, I don’t think I’m getting sick, no. Come—”

He was about to invite Minhyuk in, but Minhyuk’s no vampire, he’s never needed an invitation. He just swans on in right past Changkyun, kicks off his shoes, and flings himself onto Changkyun’s bed like he’s done this a million times before, although, realistically speaking, it’s only happened about five times, and always with other people present. Changkyun is beginning to suspect that Minhyuk wants something; he usually has a mischievous glint in his eyes, but tonight, it’s almost purposeful. “Why weren’t you at dinner, anyway?” Minhyuk asks, seemingly innocently. “We missed you!”

Changkyun doubts that _everyone_ missed him, but he lets himself entertain the thought for just a moment as he sits back down at his desk. “Just… wasn’t in the mood for it, I guess,” he says. “More of a ramen kind of night.”

Minhyuk snorts, spotting the cup on Changkyun’s desk. “Very glam,” he agrees, dripping with sarcasm. “No, c’mon, you can tell me. Kihyun bullied you into not going, didn’t he?”

Changkyun makes a very slight face, spinning in his desk chair from side to side. He can’t even regret confessing his feelings for Kihyun to Minhyuk, because he never even did. He hadn’t needed to. Minhyuk had just looked at him one day, seen the way Changkyun was looking at Kihyun, and burst into uproarious laughter — _oh, honey,_ he’d said. Not a particularly sympathetic ear, but it’s not sympathy Changkyun needs. He’s not sure what he needs, exactly, but Minhyuk can’t give it to him, whatever it is. “I wouldn’t call it bullying,” he says, “but he did imply he didn’t want me there.”

“Ugh,” Minhyuk says, shaking his head and pouting at Changkyun. “He’s been so annoying lately, don’t you think? Like, it’s not just you he’s taking it out on, it’s everyone. And who does he even think he is? Who died and made him Head Bitch in Charge, you know?”

“I think he’s doing alright,” Changkyun mumbles, but Minhyuk, of course, ignores him and steamrolls right ahead:

“Like, even tonight at dinner, he was complaining about his dumb photography magazine and just being so _pissy_ about it—”

“It’s not dumb,” Changkyun says. It’s a lost cause, Minhyuk can’t be stopped. His Kihyun impression is pretty funny, Changkyun grudgingly has to admit, but all the rest of this? It’s making Changkyun a little uneasy. He’s getting the sense that Minhyuk just came over to complain about Kihyun, because he thinks (incorrectly) that just because Kihyun rejects Changkyun in a million microscopic ways daily that Changkyun has hardened against him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, like a broken bone, Changkyun’s love only strengthens with each muted setback.

“—which is just, ugh, ridiculous,” Minhyuk concludes with a roll of his eyes. “So I’m _dying_ to teach him a lesson.”

Changkyun raises his eyebrows, glancing over to him even though he’d been treating Minhyuk’s rambling as a kind of white noise and had just gotten back to his notes. “A lesson?”

“Yeah. You know, because he loves being the center of attention all the time — what if he _stopped_ being that? I think it would really mess with his head,” Minhyuk says, snickering. “You wanna help me out?”

“I… don’t know about that,” Changkyun starts to say, immediately getting fidgety, but Minhyuk shakes his head very firmly and sits up, reaching out with his long, skinny arms to grab Changkyun’s hands.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Don’t you want him to _notice_ you?” he presses. “I mean, really, _really_ notice you?”

Changkyun had been about to say a definitive no, he wants no part of this, but that gives him pause. Kihyun never notices him much, even on the odd occasions when they do get to talk. Any attention is good attention, right? It’s… tempting, conceptually. He must look conflicted, because Minhyuk, sensing weakness, begins to go in for the kill:

“You won’t even have to do much. Just follow my lead and he’ll be crazy about you in no time. Haven’t you ever heard that jealousy is the best matchmaker?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Changkyun says. “Wait, what’s your plan, exactly?”

“Changkyun,” Minhyuk whines. “Why does no one listen to me? My _genius_ plan is that we _pretend_ to be a thing, and then he’ll freak out and get jealous and finally start being nice to me again. And maybe he’ll ask you out or something, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I definitely don’t know,” Changkyun mumbles. Stupid, to get his hopes up that Minhyuk might have a magic solution to Changkyun’s problems, when the only person who could solve them is the one they’re discussing duping right now. “Don’t think that would work on him.”

“Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve known him longer than you’ve been alive,” Minhyuk informs him. “It’ll work. He can’t stand it when people who are supposed to worship him start finding other uses of their time. And—” All of a sudden, his tone changes abruptly, and the claw-like grip he’d had on Changkyun’s hands softens. He links their fingers, rubs his thumbs over Changkyun’s knuckles. “It makes me so sad,” he continues, quieter, “that you’re just pining for him and he never acknowledges it. At least this way, he’ll have to confront his own thoughts, if you suddenly stop following him everywhere like a lovesick puppy.”

Changkyun doesn’t even deny it. He knows what he is. And the plan seems pointless and definitely won’t work, but what does Changkyun have to lose? He blinks down at his and Minhyuk’s hands, knowing that Minhyuk genuinely does want to help him, even though he’s largely motivated by his desire for mayhem, and finally feels something other than desolate. “Do you think I have a chance?” he asks, voice low.

Minhyuk tilts his head to the side and squeezes Changkyun’s hands. “Honestly? Not really,” he says flatly, which Changkyun appreciates, even though it stings. “But I’ve been really bored this quarter and it’s not like anything you’ve been doing to get his attention thus far has been working, right? Anyway, don’t take it personally, Kihyun just isn’t really the kind of person to want to date or anything. I’ve never seen him show much interest in anyone, even his boyfriends last year.”

Plural? Changkyun immediately feels sick with jealousy. Good thing he wasn’t here yet — but maybe that makes it even worse, that Kihyun was dating around, shopping for contenders, while Changkyun, utterly oblivious, never even got the chance to throw his hat into the ring. And Changkyun knows he’s going to do this, even though he’s definitely going to regret it. “What… would I have to do?” he says quietly, and Minhyuk crows in delight.

“I knew it! You’re so smart, I’m so glad you said yes. So it’s pretty simple—” Minhyuk launches into an eight-minute-long monologue explaining his strategy, which begins with social media manipulation and ends with them “not really making out but kinda making out” at a party. He’s either given this a lot of thought or is naturally an evil genius; both options are equally plausible. Changkyun can see, objectively, that it’s not a bad plan, and were Kihyun a normal person it might work to get his attention and even make him jealous, but frankly, he just doesn’t think it will. Yes, he will go along with it anyway, but only because his life is Sisyphean, and nothing else he’s tried has worked, and there really is absolutely nothing for him to lose. He and Minhyuk take a few pictures of their hands linked, change each other’s names in their phones to have heart emojis, and Minhyuk goes home. Changkyun chews slowly through one of the donuts. Rereads Kihyun’s email to Shutter for the millionth time. Sees that Kihyun’s Facebook indicates that he was online in the last five minutes. What if Changkyun just sends him a message now? _Just so you know, your best friend and I are going to pretend to date to make you jealous._ Kihyun probably would delete it unread, just because of who sent it. Then Changkyun gets a notification that he’s been tagged in an Instagram story, and it’s Minhyuk — the picture is of his hand holding the bag of donuts in front of Changkyun’s door, and a winking emoji with its tongue sticking out. Changkyun groans, rolls over to push his face into the pillow, and prays that the world stops existing by the time he wakes up.

Alas, no such luck. It’s a pretty fast-moving scheme, so the next day at lunch, Minhyuk and Changkyun meet up at the same campus coffee shop that Kihyun frequents. They wait in line together, standing way too close and giggling (well, Minhyuk is giggling) at something on Minhyuk’s phone, and Minhyuk orders for both of them and pays for both of them, too. At least Changkyun is getting free coffee out of this, if nothing else. As they’re waiting for their order, Kihyun comes in, looking beyond beautiful in his light merino sweater. He asks the barista for “the usual,” pays contactless, then comes to stand by the other corner of the counter and wait. Against all laws of nature, he looks even more beautiful from up close. “Um, hi,” Minhyuk says, giggling.

Kihyun mumbles automatically in response, then registers who spoke to him and looks up from his phone sharply. “Hey,” he says, warm, but then sees Changkyun, just behind Minhyuk’s shoulder, and stills. When he repeats, “Hey,” it’s a little cooler.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Minhyuk grins. “Did you read that article I sent you? I just think it’s so funny how—” And he and Kihyun launch into their typical economics major gibberish while Changkyun just stands there silently. He can tell, based on the finely-drawn line going tight between Kihyun’s eyebrows, that Kihyun wants to ask what Changkyun is doing there, call him out for occupying Kihyun’s spaces again, but the presence of Minhyuk is restraining him from doing so. Is that good? Is that bad? Does he even care? Their coffees are ready, and once Minhyuk and Changkyun both grab theirs, Minhyuk slips his arm through Changkyun’s, and Changkyun is still staying silent, but he watches as Kihyun’s eyes flicker to watch the movement and as that line between his eyebrows deepens. “Well, we gotta go,” Minhyuk chirps. “See you in class!”

“Bye,” Kihyun nods, but he sounds distracted somehow. It’s such a departure from the usual tone he takes with Changkyun, a kind of disapproving coldness, that Changkyun is all in a tizzy as Minhyuk marches him out of the coffee shop. _Shit,_ Changkyun thinks. _This might actually work._

If not to make Kihyun jealous, at least to make Kihyun notice him. The next time they all see each other, Wonho’s bi-weekly tea night yet again, Minhyuk sits practically in Changkyun’s lap, and Changkyun uh-huhs along as Minhyuk explains the whole plot of some random German TV show to him. Kihyun is looking; Changkyun catches him, and when their eyes meet, Kihyun glances away quickly and resumes his conversation with Hyungwon. Changkyun’s cheeks are warm. His heart is beating fast. Kihyun normally never looks at him first — he feels Changkyun’s eyes, ignores them, and that’s it. It’s only been three days since Minhyuk initiated his evil plan and so far, Changkyun has to grudgingly admit that he’s surprised by the results. When Minhyuk texts him later that night to confirm that Changkyun is still down, Changkyun replies, _yes._

They’re hanging out in Minhyuk’s apartment two days later, both doing homework, but as long as their Find Friends dots are in the same place, it doesn’t matter what they do. Minhyuk is making an agenda, sketching out the outlines of antics yet to come. “And then on Thursday, we can maybe go to dinner off campus or something,” he says. “How about, like, 6:30?”

“No can do,” Changkyun says. “Shutter meeting.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You still go to those?” (Implying he already knew Changkyun is a regular attendee. But Changkyun hadn’t told him. Had Kihyun? What?) “Don’t bother, that’s definitely not winning you any brownie points, he hates everyone in that stupid club. Plus, if you’re dating me now, you wouldn’t be going to his things anyway. So skip it. We can go to that sushi place, I’ll even pay for you, so—”

“No,” Changkyun says, marginally more firmly this time, at least by his own standards. “I’m sorry. I can’t skip that. I’m on the printing team, I have to be there.”

Minhyuk looks unimpressed, but lets it go. “Fine, whatever. We can go to dinner afterwards, then, how’s that? Oh, hang on, it’s Kihyun,” he says, his phone vibrating on his bed next to him. He answers and puts him on speaker. “Room service!”

Through the line, Kihyun’s annoyed breath crackles. In his chest, Changkyun’s lungs freeze. Kihyun just calls Minhyuk — Minhyuk just answers. That’s a possibility that exists, in the world. Talking to Kihyun on the phone. So casually, so easily. Nothing fraught about it, no weird tension, no need for an excuse. Calling, just because. Kihyun says, “Yeah, yeah. Where are you, you busy?”

“I’m at home, but don’t come over,” Minhyuk says with a cartoonishly exaggerated wink for Changkyun.

“Are you busy or not?”

“Or,” Minhyuk says coyly and kicks his legs around, evidently delighted with his own deviousness.

“So you have someone over? Then why’d you pick up?” Kihyun huffs.

“We’re just studying, get your mind out of the gutter,” Minhyuk pouts. Another wink for Changkyun, but Changkyun is staring at the screen, at Kihyun’s contact, the seconds ticking by as the call goes on. “What do you want?”

“No, it’s nothing, I just wanted your WSJ login info again,” Kihyun says. Is that Changkyun’s imagination, or does he sound strange? Of course he sounds different over the phone, and Changkyun is sitting there, motionless and enthralled by the static cutting through his voice, but it’s his tone. It’s unusual. “But you can just text it to me whenever you get the chance.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk hums, “I will. Say hi!”

He shoves his phone at Changkyun and flashes his eyes at him significantly, and Changkyun panics a little and mumbles, “Hi?” He cringes, immediately regrets it, and hunches in around himself as if to hide, even though obviously Kihyun can’t see him. It feels like Kihyun may as well be in the room, though, with how thick the tension is — the silence on the other end of the line is deafening.

After a moment, Kihyun says, “Hi.” Minhyuk squeals noiselessly and pumps his fist in the air. “I’ll leave you to your… studying,” Kihyun continues, sounding stiff. “See you in class, Minhyuk.”

“Byeeee,” Minhyuk chirps and hangs up on him, then grins with all his perfect, enthusiastic teeth on display. “Am I a genius or what?”

“Or what,” Changkyun says, and even though Minhyuk throws a balled-up sheet of paper at him, it’s still worth it for that _hi,_ that pause before it, and for the fact that Kihyun, in just the last few days, has clearly given more thought to Changkyun than he ever has before.

Thursday. Shutter at 6:30. Changkyun comes breathless but on time, and Kihyun, who normally doesn’t look at him more than once, doesn’t look at him at all. That’s alright. Changkyun can do enough looking for both of them. He loves to watch Kihyun working, giving orders, making decisions; right now, Kihyun and the graphic designers of the club are having a spirited debate about what the cover of the magazine should look like. Changkyun, and most of the other members, don’t have much to say, but there’s nothing they really need to say, anyway. Kihyun is explaining the schedule yet again, saying he’d like to have a couple sample issues printed in the next couple weeks, and Changkyun perks up: _does that mean me?_ All he’s ever doing is waiting for instructions from Kihyun. But Kihyun doesn’t say anything to address him, or the rest of the printing team, directly, and in another moment, he’s back to squabbling over font choices. Changkyun doesn’t know anyone else who’s this passionate about fonts. Yet another amazing thing about Kihyun, another little miracle that makes Changkyun love him even more. Kihyun says to “get out your calendars, everyone,” and Changkyun obeys and writes down the dates Kihyun tells him to. Seems like all the photographers have their work picked out already, so it’s just a question of getting everything formatted, or something. Changkyun isn’t paying too much attention to that part, just waiting for when Kihyun is going to tell him what he needs him to do. But it doesn’t come, not yet — and the meeting is suddenly over, and everyone is packing up, and Changkyun is left wondering if that was it, if the plan is failing after all, and how he’ll know when it’s time to call the whole thing off and go right back to how things were.

“Hey,” comes Kihyun’s voice, suddenly. He’s closer than Changkyun expected him to be, but still standing at a wary distance. “Are you going to the dining hall?”

“Um,” Changkyun says, startled as he always is by Kihyun addressing him directly, head-on. Everyone else is leaving the room, and soon they’ll be alone. “No, I… I have plans?”

Kihyun’s face does something strange — something Changkyun hasn’t seen it do before. It looks good on him, everything does, but it’s unfamiliar. He almost looks like he’s debating with himself, wavering, and finally, he says in a very neutral tone, “With Minhyuk?”

Easy question, easy answer. “Yeah,” Changkyun says, and that curious expression on Kihyun’s face worsens. Why had he asked? Was he going to invite Changkyun to walk over together, but now he’s not going to? Stupid Minhyuk, with his stupid sneaky plan. But before Changkyun can text Minhyuk that he’s not coming to dinner and is going to spend time with Kihyun instead, Kihyun mumbles something that sounds like “great” and leaves without a backwards glance.

Mysteries abound. Changkyun walks to the sushi place and tells Minhyuk what happened, and Minhyuk cackles into his edamame. “It’s working!” he insists gleefully. “I bet you twenty bucks he’s gonna ask me if we’re dating within 24 hours. From that point on, it’s super easy, right? We just keep it up until the end of the quarter and then we break up and then you can run straight into his arms for comfort.”

“Right,” Changkyun sighs, not altogether convinced. But there _was_ something interesting about the way Kihyun had asked him what he was doing, where he was going. Almost like he cared. Almost like he was hoping for a certain answer, and was disappointed when the answer was different from his expectation. Hope, that most traitorous of emotions, just won’t calm down in Changkyun’s chest. It lives behind his sternum, curls around his heart, and every time he thinks the plan’s a bust, something new occurs that makes him change his mind. Minhyuk pays for Changkyun’s dinner, but when Changkyun gets back to his dorm afterwards, he sees that he has a Venmo request for 20 dollars. At first, Changkyun thinks it’s for dinner, but then he remembers what Minhyuk had said and, his stomach doing backflips, texts Minhyuk: _did he ask?_

 _yesssss,_ Minhyuk replies immediately. There’s a screenshot attached, and Changkyun, trembling, opens it.

So many things are unbelievable about that screenshot. The contact info, some inside jokes Changkyun will never understand. How long had the pause been between Kihyun’s first text and his second? Most importantly, what does “Wow” mean? Kihyun had asked Minhyuk, deliberately, on purpose. Why does he want to know? Is he disgusted, interested, jealous, repelled, amused? Changkyun is going crazy. To keep himself from going even crazier, he texts Minhyuk, _if he hates me, why does he care?_

 _omg he doesn’t hate you lol,_ Minhyuk texts back. _he’s just a nosy bitch idk! ask him yourself_

Changkyun can’t think of anything he’d like to do less. However, it’s not like he thinks of Kihyun as _hating_ him. If Kihyun hates him, it’s in the way people hate under-sweetened drinks, potholes in the road that are too deep, a doorframe that sticks and squeaks. A passive annoyance, nothing to get infuriated over, not bad enough to ruin your day, out of sight, out of mind. Less offensive than an insect — not even worth swatting away. No, Kihyun is never hostile. If anything, he uses weaponized politeness to keep Changkyun at bay. Is _hatred_ the word? Hatred might even be preferable. At least then Kihyun would be thinking about him consistently and expending energy on hating him. Like this, before the plan’s inception, Kihyun gave him no thought whatsoever. Never talked about him, never thought about him when he wasn’t there. But now Changkyun has two material pieces of proof, this screenshot and the fact that Minhyuk knew Changkyun was a regular member of Shutter, that Kihyun has brought him up. His hope is back. He doesn’t know what to do with it, where to put it. What would it even mean, if Kihyun were to get jealous? What would he do? Ostensibly, Changkyun is dating Kihyun’s best friend — aren’t there bro codes against that sort of thing? And now Changkyun is back to going crazy.

There’s just something about Kihyun. It’s worse than magic. Is it his passion, his drive, his determination to have things go his way? Is it the confidence, the outfits, the shoes? His 4.0, his Dean’s List, his Editor-in-Chief position? The way his hair curls around his ear, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the mole by his mouth and the mole under his eye and the curves of his wrists. It’s all of it. Changkyun can’t fight the way he feels — he may as well take a hammer to the moon. He was always meant to fall in love with Kihyun. Whether or not he was always meant to get him, though, is a separate issue entirely.

Now that Kihyun has bought fully into the reality of the Minhyuk-Changkyun sham relationship, they can relax their level of engagement significantly. All it takes is being seen together at least every other day, tagging each other in Facebook posts, and a coordinated Instagram blast — those pictures they’d taken on the first night, their fingers all tangled together. Minhyuk’s caption says _cuter than you!!!!!!!!_ and Changkyun didn’t caption his, for lack of any ideas. Once they’re posted, he spends the next two hours glued to his phone to see if Kihyun is going to like either post, but of course he doesn’t.

There’s no Shutter meeting this week. Kihyun wants to see some proof copies on different kinds of paper, and Changkyun fills out the Google Form to say he’d able to go to the printing center on Friday night to print samples. Then it turns out that nobody else had volunteered, because when Changkyun checks his email, he has one from Shutter, but not from the mailing list. No, for the first time ever, this one is only to him. The subject line is simply “Friday,” and the body of the email is:

_Changkyun,_

_Thanks for volunteering to print the samples. Attached are the proof pages. Please print two of each on the arctic white high-gloss on the 1" bleed setting, as well as on the eggshell matte (the paper should be in the drawer specifically labelled for us). If you make any color adjustments, make sure they're in CMYK, and note them down on the proofs next to the relevant images. If none of this makes sense, Google it. The Shutter printer code is 95087. You probably won’t run into any problems with the printers but if you do, just print what you can and I’ll figure out the rest at a later time. Once you’ve got them, I’d appreciate if you could drop them in my mailbox as soon as possible - Sumpter 134._

_Thanks,  
Kihyun_

Thanks. Kihyun. Kihyun. Thanks. He’d thanked him twice in the email — thrice, if Changkyun counts the “I’d appreciate.” Kihyun has never contacted him directly before. Changkyun is back to trembling. “Us.” He means Shutter, but does he? Changkyun has committed the email to memory by the end of the night. Kihyun said “please.” Kihyun said “thanks.” Kihyun had told him the number of his mailbox in the visual arts building, as if Changkyun hadn’t already known. Does he want Changkyun to leave him love notes? Probably not, but maybe he does? Changkyun writes one just in case, crumples it up, debates setting it on fire in violation of dormitory policy, tears it into small pieces instead, writes another, less embarrassing one, but ends up giving it the same treatment. Today, he’d gone (against Minhyuk’s instructions) to the dorm lounge when he knew Kihyun would be there, and they hadn’t spoken, they hadn’t interacted, but Changkyun had just needed to see him, and seeing him was like a balm on every wound he’d ever had, healing him so deeply. If Changkyun feels crazy when he’s with him, it’s even worse when they’re apart. So he gives up on the love notes and downloads the proof pages to his flash drive instead. If he fails Kihyun on Friday, he may as well drop out. This printing assignment is the most important thing he’s ever had to do in his life.

But what’s going to happen next? So Changkyun prints the pages, so he brings them to the mailbox. He knows he’ll wait there, lurking in the shadows like some kind of pathetic nocturnal rodent, and wait until Kihyun comes to collect. Changkyun recites the email in his head as he walks from class to class. Friday can’t come soon enough. He didn’t even reply to his email — he didn’t know what to say. He hopes Kihyun doesn’t mind. And he knows he needs to do a perfect job with the prints. He needs to make Kihyun proud. Minhyuk texts him and asks him if he wants to hang out and have another sham date photoshoot, but Changkyun frankly doesn’t have the mental energy available for that so he says no and Minhyuk, thankfully, isn’t too annoyed about it, just wishes him luck with “whatevrs got u fucked up.” Yeah, Changkyun’s going to need luck for sure. He falls asleep rereading the email for the thousandth time, and dreams of Kihyun proposing to him. When he wakes up, there’s no ring on his finger, but the email’s still in his inbox, so Changkyun counts it as a win.

By Friday, he literally feels like he’s already had a nervous breakdown, and he’s running on five hours of sleep and three espressos, and he didn’t do his homework or his reading or the Meyers-Briggs quiz Jooheon has been politely but insistently telling him to do for a week now, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except making it to the printing center. He’s restless and fidgety through both of his classes, and as soon as the last one is over, he’s off like a gunshot, bolting to the student life center, down the hallway and down the stairs, why is everything that’s important to Kihyun in a basement? The printing room is tucked away in the back and pretty isolated, and Changkyun is the only person there — all the lights and all the computers and printers are off. Great. Ugh. He turns on some lights, some computers, and some printers, rereads the email from Kihyun just in case (although of course he’s had the code memorized for days now), and plugs in his flash drive so he can get started.

Arctic white high-gloss, eggshell matte. Sure enough, there’s a drawer labelled _SHUTTER_ in the large conglomerate of drawers on one side of the room, and Changkyun carefully, reverently slides it open and removes the thick stacks of different papers from within. Who had put this paper in here? Who had written the label? He trails his fingers over it, imagining that it had been Kihyun. That Kihyun had touched where he’s touching now, and that maybe someday, their hands can touch without a middleman. After allowing himself another sigh, he loads six sheets of what he guesses is the arctic white into the nearest printer, then goes to a random computer to start the printing process.

It’s almost surprising how deserted it is in here. But then again, he supposes there are other places to print on campus, and it _is_ Friday night. And Changkyun prefers the solitude; the only person he’d want around him is Kihyun. Failing that, he’s happy to be alone, so he dares to play alt-J aloud, but with the volume turned low, as he prints the pages on the matte next. In his very uninformed opinion, the gloss looks better for the cover but the matte looks better for the interior, and he’s about to try and make some color adjustments, because the reds look a little too red, and the blues a little too blue. Has Kihyun taught him well? Would he be proud, that Changkyun is noticing things like this? Probably not, but it's worth a try anyway.

He checks the email from Kihyun again to confirm the specifications one last time. Humming to himself, he gets out of the computer chair and picks up the stack of high-gloss, carefully peeling off six sheets and loading them into the printer tray. His back is to the door, so he hears but doesn’t see it opening as someone else comes in, presumably also to use the printers. “Shit, sorry,” Changkyun says, setting the papers down temporarily and stretching over to pause his music.

“It’s okay,” Kihyun says, sounding very awkward, and Changkyun jolts full-bodied in shock and drops everything he was holding, even though it wasn’t all that much in the first place.

His first emotion is panic. Has he let him down? How? “I’m almost done,” he says, all the breath flooding out of his lungs. “I was going to bring them over right now, as soon as I finished. The— if you want to look at the ones I already did, they’re just right here, I’m about to be done? Sorry, I didn’t know when you needed them by, I came as soon as I finished class.”

“No, it’s totally fine, there’s no rush, I just— well, I was in the area,” Kihyun says, continuing to sound awkward. Well, not _awkward,_ but just so polite and so tense that it’s coming across that way. The printing room door is closed behind him, and Changkyun absently wonders if it locks. Kihyun steps forward and picks up the cover on matte, making a thoughtful noise. “Oh, I like that.”

“I’m about to print some with the colors corrected,” Changkyun says and jabs the start button on the printer. He’s too aware of Kihyun’s presence, his peripheral vision is straining, and he wants to do well, he wants to do a good job, he wants Kihyun to stay right here, to stay with him. For some reason, even though it’s worked perfectly the last two times, the printer is remaining stubbornly silent, and Changkyun pokes the start button again. And again. Still nothing; again. “Um… hold on, fuck.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t like the high-gloss,” Kihyun says. Changkyun, for once, isn’t looking at him, but Kihyun’s voice sounds strange, strained. “Try putting it in the second tray.”

“The second tray?” Shit, Changkyun should have come earlier this week and scoped out the printers, learned how they work, just in case of a situation like this. He feels so stupid for not having done that, but now it’s too late, and he’s going to look like a fucking idiot in front of the love of his life because he can’t work a fucking printer. “Um, okay, just a sec.” He takes the paper out of the tray it had been in, while the printer begins to beep ominously, and leans down to try and find the second tray. There are about seven thousand trays, none of them labelled “second,” and Changkyun despairs and straightens back up — maybe it’s the slot right underneath the main paper tray? God, this is humiliating. He can’t even work a printer? No wonder Kihyun will never look at him twice. No, that’s not where the paper should go, either. Changkyun tries to put it back into the main one and hit start again, but the printer’s beeping only increases, and Changkyun’s despair grows exponentially as well. What’s he supposed to do? He doesn’t know what to do, and he’s about to ruin everything, the very thing he’s been looking forward to all week, he’s ruining it and Kihyun is just standing there, just watching him, disdaining him, hating him, and—

Kihyun is right next to him, taking the paper out of Changkyun’s hand and sliding it easily into a slot Changkyun hadn’t even noticed. “There,” he says, in an uncommonly pinched, small tone. “That’s where it goes.”

“Oh,” Changkyun breathes, practically chokes out. “Makes sense. I— sorry. Not great at printers.”

“Then why did you want to be on the printing team?”

God. The last thing Changkyun wants right now is to start crying. “You know why,” he says. “Not good for anything else.”

Kihyun makes an odd noise. “That’s not true,” he says.

Changkyun realizes all at once that Kihyun is standing very, _very_ close to him. He kind of has Changkyun trapped by the side of the printer, and Changkyun can’t really slip away, although his heart rate is beginning to pick up. “Well,” he says, scrambling for time, “you didn’t want me doing anything else, so—”

There’s that odd noise again, like an upset cross between a gasp and a laugh. “Don’t tell me what I want,” Kihyun says, low. “Please.”

“Um,” Changkyun says. He’s beginning to sweat. He has no idea what’s going on, or what Kihyun is talking about, or why he even came here in the first place. It’s too much. He can’t keep up. “Okay?”

Kihyun is breathing — Changkyun can hear him — and there’s a flash of small movement, Kihyun’s hand going out to press start on the printer. That brings it to life, and it whirrs and beeps and pushes ink into the paper, and while Changkyun is staring at the sheet as the printer sucks it in, there is a sudden pressure on the back of Changkyun’s shoulder and on both of his sides — it’s Kihyun. Kihyun’s forehead, pressed to Changkyun’s back, his hands on his waist. He’s never touched Changkyun before, never, and Changkyun freezes _so_ fast it nearly hurts, rooted to the spot, terrified he’s dreaming. How can he be sure? Kihyun’s hands are warm, holding him tightly, and he moves his head in a small way, like he’s breathing Changkyun in. Silent. The printer finishes its job, and they’re left standing there together, neither moving, neither speaking. Changkyun doesn’t understand — it’s impossible, what Kihyun is doing, what it implies. What is this? Who is he? What should he do? “Kihyun,” he tries, and his voice shakes. “Kihyun—”

“Don’t,” Kihyun murmurs. “Please, please don’t say anything, I just need— this. Just once. I know I shouldn’t, I’m sorry, but before it’s too late. Please just let me do this. Since I can’t do anything else.”

Changkyun doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He wishes he could see his face. He can read Kihyun — he knows Kihyun. He’d be able to understand, if he could only see his face. “Are you okay?” he asks weakly. His own hands are resting against the edges of the printer, useless. He’s just standing still, useless. And Kihyun is going through something terrible and won’t let Changkyun help him, and Changkyun is useless.

“No,” Kihyun laughs, humorless and breathy. “No, Changkyun, thank you for asking. I probably will be, but this? The way I am right now? _Fuck_ , it’s bad.”

“Let me help you,” Changkyun says. Practically pleading, and he doesn’t even know for what. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Against his back, Kihyun shakes his head tightly. “Please?”

“I think about you all the time,” Kihyun breathes, and it burns worse than anything. “I can’t get you out of my head. When I wake up, it’s you. When I go to sleep, it’s you. I see you all around campus when I know you’re somewhere else. I miss you when you’re not there. When you _are_ there, I miss you even more. I think I’m going crazy, I don’t know what to do. And I couldn’t just— miss my chance— because I know I did, I know I already missed it, I know. I’m such a fucking idiot. You were right in front of me, and I missed my chance even though I wanted you so, _so_ bad, and now I want you even worse and I can’t have you. Am I going to die?”

Changkyun is gasping for air, and even though Kihyun’s grip on his waist is tight, it’s not so tight that Changkyun can’t break it. He turns around in his hold, face to face with him, and Kihyun is pale and drawn and unhappy, meets Changkyun’s eyes, and Changkyun says, “No— no, you’re not going to die.”

“Really? You have a boyfriend,” Kihyun says bitterly. “You’re dating _Minhyuk_. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to pick you? When this _whole_ time, I’ve been being such a fucking martyr and pushing you away for your own good and he did what I couldn’t let myself do and now he gets you and what do I get? Where does that leave me?”

“For my own good? _Kihyun,”_ Changkyun says and kisses him. It’s such a visceral horror, to hear his private, innermost thoughts reflected back upon himself, in Kihyun’s lovely voice, and Kihyun’s lips are soft and struggling and he kisses Changkyun back in just a second, his hands moving to clutch at Changkyun’s hair like he’s drowning.

They kiss. It’s messy, needy, no technique, nothing like the meaningful, slow way Changkyun has always imagined kissing Kihyun for the first time to be. Kihyun uses his teeth and his tongue and he pushes Changkyun up more solidly against the printer, exhaling a breath like a moan into his mouth, one of his hands leaving Changkyun’s hair to push up Changkyun’s sweater. “Tell me to stop,” he begs.

Changkyun doesn’t.

“Think of Minhyuk,” Kihyun pushes.

Changkyun would rather not.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Kihyun groans, and starts to pull away.

“Yes, we should,” Changkyun insists and grabs Kihyun to keep him exactly where he is, and Kihyun shudders and melts against him and they kiss and kiss again, matching each other in urgency and need, hot lips and wet breath and hands running all over, anywhere they both can reach.

Changkyun can’t think — he can’t put together the pieces of what this means. Kihyun never hated him, and he’d only been pushing him away for his own good? Even though he’d felt the same way for Changkyun as Changkyun does for him? It makes no sense. It’s getting harder and harder to hold onto thoughts, with the way Kihyun is panting against his mouth and sucking on Changkyun’s lower lip, but Changkyun has to at least try, before he gets to the point of no return. “Why?” he manages between searing kisses. “Why did you— what do you mean?”

Kihyun is very much distracted by Changkyun’s mouth, but he begins to speak after a moment, pressed so close to Changkyun with the body language of fear, like he’d crawl inside Changkyun and die there if he could. “Because— you liked me _so_ much, and for _no_ reason, and you’re just a kid, Changkyun, I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he explains, hoarse, his lips now moving down to kiss and suck all over Changkyun’s neck. “I don’t know how to date. I’m not very nice. I can’t be a normal boyfriend, everybody tells me so, and you deserve better than me. And if all you were doing was following after me, and if I gave you any hope, you’d never focus on anything else and you’d hold yourself back and you don’t want that, Changkyun, I know you think you want that and you want me but—”

“Please don’t tell me what I want,” Changkyun says, and this time when he kisses him, it’s hard enough to shut them both up.

All Changkyun can do now is hope that Kihyun locked the door. But — Changkyun remembers noticing how empty it had been, a Friday night, and realizes that Kihyun may have orchestrated this on purpose. He’d wanted to get Changkyun alone. And that’s when Changkyun knows that this, between them, is going to work, no matter how anxious he and Kihyun both get. There’s no guarantee of anything in life — no guarantee that intense feelings will feel intense forever, but they’re this intense _now,_ they want each other _now,_ and there’s nothing that should keep them apart. If they want this thing to work, they can try. Kihyun is warm and solid and alive and thinks about Changkyun when they’re apart, and he’s kissing Changkyun like he could drown in him, and Changkyun pulls him in by the hips so they’re aligned and they both gasp cut-off noises into their kiss from the friction.

Kihyun is hard. Because of _him._ Changkyun is suddenly so greedy for touch, they’re plastered all over each other but it’s nowhere near enough, and he fumbles to undo the button of Kihyun’s neat slacks, to slip his hand inside. Kihyun’s back arches and his teeth scrape inadvertently against Changkyun’s cheek, but he kisses feverishly, frantically, right over his skin to soothe it. “He's my best friend,” Kihyun tries, breath hitching in his words, his cock just as hot and straining as the rest of him.

“And I’m in love with you,” Changkyun replies, and Kihyun moans and blindly seeks his mouth, hips rocking to push into Changkyun’s hold on him. With equal urgency, Kihyun reaches for Changkyun’s jeans and Changkyun’s knees nearly give out, but they keep each other upright with how tightly they’re entwined, and Kihyun fits his fingers around Changkyun’s dick and just _holds_ him, lets Changkyun thrust up and fuck his fist, while Changkyun jerks him more traditionally and they kiss, lick tongues against each other, chins nearly getting wet. Still urgent, still life-or-death, but marginally less frantic, they lavish in the touches, rocking and rubbing together, and there are no more words, no more confessions — they’re saying all they need to say like this. Kihyun pushes his thumb under the head of Changkyun’s cock and Changkyun whimpers, feeling beyond unhinged, feeling transcendental, and it only gets worse when Kihyun sucks at Changkyun’s earlobe, pushes closer to him, sighs shaky against his neck, murmurs, “I’m gonna come, but I want you to come first.”

Kihyun’s wish has always been Changkyun’s command. Changkyun turns his face, buries it in Kihyun’s cheek, breathes and breathes, and Kihyun holds him and strokes him loose and wet and it’s easy for Changkyun to come for Kihyun-related reasons, so it takes no effort at all, it’s as easy as the rest of loving him to spill over his fingers. And Kihyun isn’t far behind, Changkyun draws back just enough to watch him, the way his brows pull together and his eyelashes flutter dark and his lips fall open on a silent moan. He’s the most beautiful thing Changkyun has ever seen. Changkyun can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true, but it’s true. He kisses at Kihyun’s mouth, just the corner where his mole is, hesitantly, and Kihyun turns and meets him, lets him in, and they kiss more languidly, catching each other’s breaths, cooling down, together.

Naturally, eventually they come to a slow halt, ending up with just their foreheads leaned on one another. Kihyun’s eyes are closed, but they’re beginning to open. “I’m sorry,” he rasps, so quietly Changkyun almost doesn’t hear him. But the relaxation on his face, the peace, the catharsis, is a new expression to Changkyun, and he can’t wait to see what else Kihyun’s face can do. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just… I knew the longer I waited, the less possible this would be, so. I don’t know. I’ll leave you alone now. Thank you.”

 _Thank you?_ He makes to pull away, but Changkyun catches him, keeps him from going absolutely anywhere. “I have something to tell you,” Changkyun says, and he can’t stop a mildly hysterical grin from starting to form on his doubtless kiss-swollen lips.

“What?” Kihyun says. That relaxation is dissipating, sunlight hidden by thick clouds, and his typically permanent frown is replacing it. “What is it?”

Changkyun kisses him first, to ease the blow. They’re going to laugh about this years from now — he knows they will — but in the moment, he has to be careful. Kihyun hesitates, but kisses back momentarily, restless though he is, and after a few seconds of distracted, lazy kissing, he insists more firmly, “What do you have to tell me? Just spit it out, Jesus, before I leave you alone forever.”

“Minhyuk and I aren’t really dating,” Changkyun says. “We’re faking it. To make you jealous. Stay mad at me for as long as you want, but call me when you’re done, okay? I’ll be here. I’ve waited this long, I can wait until you’re ready again.”

There is a ringing silence. “Oh, _fuck_ you,” Kihyun growls, but when he pushes in for a kiss, Changkyun can feel the tightness of his lips, and he knows, for the very first time, that it’s not with a frown, but with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/paratazxis) / [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/paratazxis)
> 
> STARRING: MADDIE MOBLIT AS KIHYUN, TAZ CHERISHISKISA AS MINHYUK, DOJA CAT AS DOJA CAT
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!!!!! i had fun writing this even though it is kind of too short for how long it needs to be (even though its already 2x the length it was supposed to be. does that make any kind of sense?????) .. would love comments n thots on this one because im really not sure if it turned out well :'')) and of course a huge thank you to my wife for larping kihyuk with me to get that screenshot jskhjbfkjbdsjk as well as for consulting on printers and photo paper, and thank you so much again to illy for the commission!!!
> 
> anyway, 2 more comms coming up soon, so pls subscribe 2 moi if youd like to see some sillier nonsense than this!!! hope yall are staying safe, healthy, and happy!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [akikotree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree) Log in to view. 




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